Dark Release
by Yin1
Summary: What does your lover think about while you sleep? Sometimes it’s better to pretend you don’t notice, yet what are the consequences. Yohji’s point of view on a slumbering Aya and Aya’s response to the strange turn of events that follow. Finished. R
1. Naivete

_**Title: Dark Release**_

Disclaimer: Weiß Kreuz belongs to Koyasu Takehito, and unfortunately I don't own the bishounen, though there is the possibility of me merging with the TV screen and joining them in their universe. Did I mention they were single?

Rating: NC-17

Warning: Lemon (later on), yaoi, angst, explicit language.

Pairings Yohji/Aya

Summary: What does your lover think about while you sleep? Sometimes it's better to pretend you don't notice, yet what are the consequences. Yohji's point of view on a slumbering Aya and Aya's response to the strange turn of events that follow.

AN: There are those who have read my fic, Silly boy, we'll this is sort of a better version of it, I was challenged to turn it into the point of view of both lovers. Sorry about any inconvenience, this fic is better than the first one and chapter two will be coming very soon. This is still Yohji's POV, I added some things so that later on it will fit with Aya's actions and thoughts, so bear w/ me for now, I promise it'll get better. On with the story!!!

**Part I: Naiveté**

**(Yohji)**

_Silly boy._

_I watched him grow,_

_and crushed his smile_

_I saw him laugh,_

_and made him cry_

_I caused his pain,_

_then killed his joy_

_I watched him die,_

_my silly boy._

_Here he lies dead,_

_After all he's been through._

_Tears stain my face,_

_And I cry too._

I sit up in bed, the softness of the mattress too comforting for me; reaching over to the old nightstand I find the keys, the thin metal cold in my sweaty palm. Hesitantly, I slip out of bed, painfully ignoring the still form sleeping beside me. I stare at the small space of the shabby apartment, not knowing what possessed me to bring him here. Maybe because I needed closure or just simply because I wanted some time away from my real life, it didn't matter that he shared that life with me also, we all have different degrees of sin. The room is moldy though the sheets on the bed are clean, there's scarcely any furniture, and the few pieces present are broken and old.

I feel no guilt for taking him to this place, it's some sort of punishment, at least that's what I wanted it to be, but now I'm just tired. We had been playing the sport of cat and mouse for months, yet this was the culmination: sex. His sister died and he went into a state far too depressing to remember, I coaxed him out of it. It was foolish of me to do so, since unknowingly I had coaxed my own heart out of its hiding place. I wonder if he will give me that nasty sneer of his if I tell him I care and that I want much more than just a simple night of animal fucking. Shaking my head I snort derisively, he'll probably just give me one of his shi-ne glares and stalk out of the room. The next day he will just pretend that nothing happened. That's the way he is, and I've come to accept him, but what scares me is the fact that he will never accept me.

The need to get away is overpowering, I'm dirty and sticky although I refuse to recall how that came about, the heat of his skin and the heavy breathing mingled with our coupling is still too fresh in my mind. The reason is that I'm too much of a coward to face the other side of our strange relationship. I'm not used to going out with beautiful women and leaving them standing foolishly or shouting after me. It's all his fault, they don't have his pale skin and the don't possess that beautiful shade of red hair, radiant curls that become light pink in sunlight and a deep burgundy at night or when they're damp. Striding over to the window at the corner of the room, I lay on my back, the coldness of the hard floor chilling my shriveled skin, yet it is nothing compared to the ice in my body. My idle gaze drifts over to the sleeping street, people down there are merely content in spending meaningless reality robotically carrying out typical functions of life in what they call self-righteousness for themselves and whoever they are trying to impress. We all have secrets, I wonder what he has to reveal.

The room is dark, the black void engulfing me, yet I like it, it represents my own darkness, rays will illuminate the space, unlike me, I can never have light in my soul, laughing softly at that thought, I correct myself, more like I don't have a soul. I draw up my knees sluggishly and embrace them with limp arms. I'm entranced by everything around me, the disfigured shapes dancing along with scurrying shadows. This often occurs; my few minutes of utter madness, the times when I look at an object and point at it like a youngster, then begin laughing and laughing, never stopping until insanity subsides, and then a frighteningly sober peace enters me. At times I wonder what goes on in the mind of every murderer, mostly because I don't know what goes on in my own mind; it's all in a jumble, a jumble that I don't want to sort out.

My body arches into an invisible embrace, I feel the frosty presence behind me, his silent way of letting me know that he's there, my lips try to smile and the attempt has gone awry. I don't think that that I've ever graced anyone with a real smile, an upward pull of the lips along with a fake sparkle in the eyes is as far as I can go; they all seem to accept it. A slim hand caresses my neck, the feathery brush makes me shudder, lips gently kiss the column, I know those pale lips, I have come to know and explore the hard and soft contours of that yielding mouth. All of a sudden it's not enough, he knows I abhor him as much as I love him, I turn away, yet he isn't fazed by my rejection, but I'm flooded with his gentle acknowledgment, as if patting me on the head for growing up or accomplishing some impossible feat.

I sense his noiseless retreat, gracefully accepting my desire to be alone; I hear the sound of his feet, muffled by carpets strewn across the room. He is always beautiful in all he does and all he says, quite a contrast from me. I wonder what made him allow me to fuck him senseless tonight, he had said in that arctic voice of his "We both want it, so why not?" then shaking his head he had gotten into his Porsche and asked me where we going, carefully stating that he would follow in his own car. It's just like him to do that, if he didn't like it, he would run, as he always did when I kissed him or tried to push things to far, he ran, but never recognized this as an act of cowardice, the bastard thought he was perfect and what made me detest him so much is that he really was, both on the outside and on the inside, at least that's what I think.

So we came here, out of all nights he had wanted this night specifically to give into me completely. I didn't ask questions; that would make him uncomfortable, we didn't speak. He has his strange quirks just like I have mine, just because we have become fuck buddies doesn't mean we can invade each other's personal space, the rules were: the flesh is for pleasure and emotions are to be locked away safely. At least those were his rules, he should have known that Yohji Kudoh never follows the rules, but this time I broke them stupidly, I let myself feel, my emotions were supposed to be dead, I have no idea how he managed to get to me like this, it's all his fault.

"Fuck."

I hear the bed creak beneath his weight, slyly tempting me to join him, yet I don't know why, but I stay on the floor, I don't have the courage to face him in the darkness, pale and glorious in his nudity. I guess I'm weaker than I thought, he told me this once, and as always he's right. I can't stand on my own, there may have been a time in the past when I was able to do so, but now he is my anchor to the real world, because out of all of us, he has kept his head stable, on the other hand, I've gone into deep shit.

Damn, I need to stay awake, flattening my palms on the floor I lean back on my elbows the awkward position keeps my bloodshot eyes open. I urge my feeble limbs to rise, they do so clumsily, and I stumble over to the side of the bed, satisfied in watching him sleep.

I see the outline of his slender body through the sleek barrier of white fabric, the lazy undulating pale muscles painted on the long body, however they only reach his waist and remain twisted there, depriving me of what I've wanted for so long, giving a tantalizing view of the secret beneath, and I had him, but only for a short time. I inhale, quenching the urge to laugh at a time like this; I'm forced to leave the best thing that has come along in my miserable life; and all because he demands it. He had told me that I could get what I wanted but only for tonight. Carved porcelain, that's what he is, with long legs entangled in the sheets, he may be faultless in everything, but he's a messy sleeper, plus he likes to cuddle, though if I mention it, I may have to face the blade of his katana. I love his body, the sharp angles and lean curves, and I want all of him.

I've always treasured his crimson hair; errant locks are spilled on the snowy pillow like a halo of blood. I want to touch him but I'm afraid to mar the unblemished beauty, the long curve of black lashes remain still in their elegant arc, polished ebony emphasizing the flawless white flesh beneath, his chiseled lips are slightly parted with a soft sheen of saliva, I want to be the one to lick them...... repeatedly. He stirs and places his hand under a white cheek sleeping like a peaceful boy in Paradise and mindless of my demonic torment. He is like a pouty child in his sleep, the child I never was, I chuckle, he would kill me if he found out that I called him a child, his damned pride would not spare my life.

His profile seems to be silhouetted by the blackness of the room, he appears to be glowing. The forgotten keys jingle in my hands, reminding me that I'm expected to leave, he would not appreciate it if I remained until morning cradling him in my arms; that would arouse the suspicions of his vindictive mind, it would show that I care. Caring is a word that Aya has forgotten and love may just have never existed in his own universe. I no longer have the strength to fight, he is the only thing keeping me away from the edge of madness, and my need for him is overpowering my senses. Smiling in resignation, I place a kiss on the smooth forehead and step away. Pulling on my clothes hastily, I approach the door, my clingy shirt is already sticking to the dried fluid on my stomach, his cum, it's something to remind me of this night.

I turn the knob.

"Yohji."

The whispered word slithers like an echo, and burns the blood in my veins. I turn back to look at him and my breathing stops, his head is lowered as he sits on the side of the bed, crimson eartails brush softly against the flat nipples on his chest, long legs, white and elegant, dangle from the bed as deep violet eyes peek through short burgundy tresses, a painful image flashes in my mind, reminding me of those pale legs wrapped tightly around me as I slammed into his slim body, I hear his pleasured moans and for a second I can't think. Aya is staring at me quizzically; the probing gaze that like the sword he wields seeks to cut through my skull to rip the erotic images from me. He had watched me dress while I was too caught up in my disturbed thoughts, asshole, but then again he is always soundless when moving, I hadn't even realized.

I shrug, pretending a careless motion when I'm so affected by him, though I'll never let him know it, if he did, he would flee. My lazy mask is in place, working perfectly with my careless demeanor.

"I'm gone, see you Ayan," I drawl, as if he was just a fling, I wish I could tell him that this was so much more.

"Yohji."

This time the voice stops me in my tracks, I feel the anger and hurt emanating from him. Damn he moves fast, now he is right behind me, his arms encase my middle tightly, tapered fingers caress my clothed stomach, and he plants a soft kiss on my shoulder, I'm responsive to his touch, no matter how trivial. I want to cry but I won't, he wants to cry but he can't, Aya doesn't know how to cry, nobody taught him.

Tears don't surprise me and they leak silent and unhurried down my cheeks, stifling me, it has been too long. I move away to gaze at him, my eyes dull and making me cower when compared to his arctic performance. He can't share or feel my pain; I am wrung out of all feeling, beyond the last possible reach of anguish that the human mind may know. I want Aya...................... that's all.

I smile bitterly, "Why are you doing this?"

The impassive reply comes crawling along my skin as his lips move against it. "I don't know." A tongue licks away a lone tear.

Oh, but he knows, yet he will never tell me, even if he does, I refuse to stay and find out, I can't predict him, I've never been able to do so. Nothing had readied me for the untamed sex between us, before falling asleep he had made it frostily clear that it wouldn't happen again. It's so much more than physical pleasure and he knows it, but he won't admit it. I have no right to intrude on his decisions.

If he rejects me it would be the last straw. I turn around to face him, he is naked in front of me his face emotionless, we are willing to gamble what we consider precious, yet if he loses he will do so and leave with his pride intact, but I might shatter. Twin amethysts glitter through scarlet strands, he holds an ear tail between his lips, the movement seductive in it's own way. I cup his face in my hands, feeling ecstatic as he leans into the touch, he closes his eyes and his lips tremble slightly.

It takes a moment for me to see what he is really offering and how hard it is for him to squash his arrogance. He's made himself vulnerable in my sight. I kiss him and he sighs into my mouth, my tongue touches his hesitantly, I'm not very sure if he's promising a night or a lifetime, it's our silent way of testing, of communicating. I've become adept at reading his body language, just as he reads mine, he is never fooled by the mask I present to others. He's giving up himself but in return I have to reward him with my nonexistent soul, I want to have a soul, I want to be with Aya. The feel of him in my arms disperses all my doubts and he holds me firmly as if not willing to let go, we stay like that for a few timeless moments.

"I'm yours." The murmur is so soft that I have to strain to hear it.

"Why?"

"I don't know." Then again comes the infuriating response.

"You're mine?"

"Yes."

I grab his shoulders and shake him forcefully, "How much time is left before you return to you shell? For who long will you be mine Aya?"

I've never seen him smile, and it paralyzes me with its sheer magnificence. "Forever Yohji."

I kiss him, more fiercely this time, bruising his lips, but I don't care, at least not anymore. He lets me and tilts his head to give me more access; I moan, I need to be inside him, again. The warm colors will peek into the room later, but this time I would see the world in a whole new light, Aya would be right beside me sharing my darkness with his self assured brilliance. He steps back, violet eyes hazed with lust and cheeks tinted a light pink, he is panting, just like I am, the feeling is indescribable.

He leads me to the bed, his hands wrapped around my neck, holding on for dear life. Long athletic legs latch to my waist and I feel his erection, naked against my clothed one. His touch scorches my skin, trailing a line of red fire and I find it hard to believe that someone like him would actually want me, as if reading my mind; he is determined to prove me wrong and he drags my head down for a slow kiss.

I grind my arousal against his, we both gasp, his voice is thickened with longing, "Silly boy.......... don't leave me."

I feel like I'm about to erupt, my body hardens and it feels like I'm going to come in my pants; I want to feel that sheath of tightness around me as he screams my name in waves of pleasure.

"Aya..." my voice is shaky, and I hate myself for it.

"Shhh, don't talk, just love me."

It takes a moment for his words to sink into my mind.

Aya just asked me to love him.

And I do.

Hi again! I'm revising this story I hope you liked it. It took forever. Its sequel is posted and still in the works, it's called Dirty. Go read it, onegai ne?

Ciao!


	2. Trapped

**Title: Dark Release**

Disclaimer: Weiß Kreuz belongs to Koyasu Takehito, and unfortunately I don't own the bishounen, though there is the possibility of me merging with the TV screen and joining them in their universe.

Rating: NC-17

Warning: Lemon, yaoi, angst, explicit language. {Don't know what it means? It's sexually explicit male/male relationships, disgusted? Go away. If you're ok with it then join the club! Yay! Yaoi fangirls forever!

Pairings Yohji/Aya

Summary: What does your lover think about while you sleep? Sometimes it's better to pretend you don't notice, yet what are the consequences. Yohji's point of view on a slumbering Aya and Aya's response to the strange turn of events that follow.

**Part II: Trapped**

(Aya)

Shy streams of light filter through the thick fabric of the tattered drapes in the room. I stir, the first signs of life my exhausted body can allow. In one smooth motion my tired eyes open, vulnerable to the full glare of late dawn, the annoying radiance strikes my darkened pupils and with a vicious hiss, I close them again, safe behind the darkness provided by heavy lids. Feeble spikes of daylight pierce my skin, I respond to the warm contact with an unceremonious grunt, obviously not grateful for it.

I find myself sighing softly, my face delving into sleep-flattened pillows. Disheveled strands of hair tickle my nose and I burrow deeper into the comforting sheets. Awareness takes long to come, a warm body is intimately pressed against me, aching familiarity in our knotted limbs.

Yohji.

That sheer name brings me to the present with shocking speed for one who is still on the welcoming verge of dozing. My eyes widen and I stare at my surroundings in disgusted recognition. Dull paint chips of the cracked walls graced with a nasty array of dark stains on the concrete surface. Old newspapers lay strewn at the corners of the stifling space, damp and curled at the gray edges. I cringe inwardly as minor details become sharper and more prominent in my fuzzy brain. The glass window at the side of the room is the only source of illumination; weak rays hesitantly pass through the transparent panels giving place to deep shadows. I hear the cool morning wind whistle outside, as the silence in here seems to crackle like ice under my suddenly cold feet.

A lean arm is caressing my waist, I lay comfortably spooned to his lithe body, our skin warm and limbs heavy, surely not eagerly anticipating the heated light to touch us. He slowly moves closer to me and buries his head in the crook of my neck, I smile, the common reason leading to the fact that Yohji has to be in action every time, even in his seemingly idyllic slumber. The smile leaves my lips and straight line of firm disgust appears in it's place, now I remember what led to this sense of indolent happiness, a feeling that I let Yohji harbor, yet I can't seem to even grasp the edges of it......... hope.

He had been brooding last night, something quite uncommon for someone like him, so I had unabashedly watched him, I had stayed in the warm confines of rustled sheets, I saw the utter look of despair in his eyes, the resentment that he carried being a strongly visible aura, and just for that second, I wanted to get up and leave without looking back. I didn't want to deal with Yohji and his dark troubles, mostly when I had to daily confront my own. I wasn't willing to share mutual pain. Each male, on reaching a certain age; is perfectly equipped to face the avalanche of tedium and bitterness that will surely assault him. From early childhood I had become accustomed to the vicissitudes of daily life through an arduous but gradual process of continual vexation. I was cast into existence not expecting much from life and not demanding what was owed.

The sins on my back and the blood on my hands are a reminder of what and who I am, and of what I can never be. I had no desire to help or be helped with the cross I carried. For only that moment I wanted Yohji and his sordid ideas of deserved happiness and second chances dead, and hurled into the pits of hell. I felt an unbearable loathing for him, because he had a part of him that I had already lost, he retained a small portion of the fake cheerfulness that I couldn't pretend to have. I lay wondering how many faces he had to hide from me and the rest of the world. He had gotten into the same mood he usually welcomed when he thought of his old lover, Asuka. I have studied his expressions and memorized the tones of his voice, since he was cursing over and over for God knows what.

No.

I was wrong, I did know what troubled him, and I knew why he cursed. He wanted me, he needed all of me, and he craved for the missing piece that I stubbornly retained, infuriating him in the process. I guess it had been mainly because of the foolish game we started, and the actuality that it was no longer a game and that we were both too late to retrace our careless steps, hoping that in some unattainable way we could take back our brash actions and guard both our hearts, or maybe, he just needed to veil his heart, but I don't know where I left mine.

I have a secret.

...........I lied.

I lied to Yohji, something I promised myself I wouldn't do, I have seen him break, baring his soul when he lost Asuka for a second time in his life and then gloomily standing before the mirror concocting the perfect smile for teachers who lie and liars who teach, and I became one of them. Last night I smiled for him, only for him, I wanted to stop his tears, that smile was a lie, yet I did it all for him, trying not to grimace at the horrid feeling of unused skin stretching in the cause of hypocritical delight.

Yohji.

He shifts beside me, pulling me closer into his embrace, I grudgingly allow myself these brief moments of absolution, although his grip is crushing me, I let him, desperately needing his wiry arms to enclose me, shielding me from the world in which we are both living. I asked him to love me; and he tried; I couldn't respond, only the physical pleasure prevented him from really finding out the truth.

I don't love him.

He once asked me if I believed in second chances and I ran; yet with his endless streak of patience he had anticipated my moves and skillfully calculated my reactions. He smiled, a teasing sad smile, forming rakish grooves at the edges of his mouth, he was already resigned to whatever hell would come with our bizarre relationship, and he couldn't understand the twisted logic beneath my icy words, maybe because he was twisted too.

I smirk. We really are a fucked up pair.

It hurts to see him shoved willingly into my dark emptiness, to embrace it so openly. I wish he had stayed in his fake light, at least I couldn't taint him so utterly from there, yet he had barged into my cosmos, uninvited and ready to revive what was already happily lifeless.

At first I was fascinated when I looked into his eyes and he drowned in my sin, I remember my exact words, "We both want it, so why not?"

I was stupid.

The fatal words after his kiss, I was too determined too ease the hardness between my legs to even think about the consequences. He gave all and I kept all, ruthlessly taking what he had to give despite his pain. I coldly acknowledged the despair in his eyes when it sank into his mind that we could not be changed. We killed and never changed, it was our own impossible evolution.

The tapestry had been woven and he was dying inside, day by day I had witnessed it, I saw it act out like a premeditated farce in front of my eyes. I wanted to hold onto the real Yohji, but if I showed him the real me, he would twirl away in disgust and incredulity then return with a new purpose and a determined glint in his verdant orbs, the resolve to alter me and hold me tighter. To prevent a pending disaster and to save us from one another, I lied to him. Last night I gave Yohji hope, told him to do what I suspected he already felt, I told him to love me. The bliss obtained from coupling is nothing compared to the wrenching agony that returned me to the cold reality of the soiled sheets and the sticky wetness on the bed.

Yohji is still sleeping, yet his body seems to act on its own volition, he begins to move slowly, his pelvis rocking against my bare buttocks unhurriedly, I feel his hardening cock and mine twitches in response. Warm lips kiss the back of my neck sending me into violent shivers as I cry out softly. We rock back and forth and his hands trail mysterious patterns over my bare chest, his finger grazes a nipple and I jerk at the touch, whimpering and wanting more. The finger leaves my pert bud and the hand glides lower.

I'm fully erect now and trying not to pant too loudly, yet without any avail, I hate being the screamer in sex, but even though I try to prevent myself from making noises, I can't help it. I guess it comes with the redhead manual. Talented hands stroke my erection, it begins to drip with pre cum before my eyes, glistening in his hands, my hips thrust lethargically, matching his rhythm as he lazily pumps my stiff shaft.

I'm horny now, and since he started it, he better fuck me. Trust Yohji to divert me from brooding.

I whimper, "Yohji."

Oh Gods.

His hands.

I think I'm going to burn up, a blunt fingernail scrapes the foreskin and I bite my lip. He cups my balls in his palm and squeezes gently, but with enough force to make me see colors. He's still pumping my dick languidly. I gasp and nimble fingers speed up, caressing and encircling my rigid length.

I. Will. Not. Scream.

I grunt out his name and thrust into his hands more forcefully, wanting nothing more than to come, the speed quickens and his hot skin presses against mine. Sweat trickles down the small of my back and his mouth latches to the slim column of my neck, a slick tongue dances along smooth skin, as if wanting to mark me, an act of ownership that represents his desire. I feel the heavy rigidity of his cock cradled between the mounds of my ass, I push back on it and he pushes forward, I groan in frustration as his dick slips away, due to the moist sweat gathering between the two white globes, yet it is still a constant reminder of his longing, nestled within my inner thighs.

Grunting out his name, his hands start moving rapidly, a slim digit strokes the swollen head and I begin to buck wildly, thrashing forcefully against him as my hands join the frenzied stroking of my weeping shaft. Yohji is swiftly milking me, his fingers the epitome of liquid silk, my skin is alive with the fiery tongues of white heat. He is the only safe warmth as the first spasms overtake me, my arms reach back and I grip his waist, my fingers digging and bruising the skin. A pleasured scream is ripped from my throat I am swept away by wave after wave of blinding ecstasy, my head is flung back onto his shoulders and hair sticks to my forehead. My vision whitens and I see stars, my mouth opening and releasing another guttural scream as I spurt into his hands, endless jets of white cream, the raw evidence of my shattering orgasm.

I lay still, slightly jolting due to small aftershocks. My limp form sinks into the sheets and the musky scent of semen fills my nostrils, although he is my lover, to know that I reach the pinnacle of bliss at his mere touch angers me and flings my pride to the ground; his arms are resting around my sticky abdomen.

Yohji lets me know that I'm human, something I really can't accept.

I scowl, it's strange that he hasn't made some lecherous remark after this; propping up one elbow I turn around to look at him. My eyes narrow, and I hiss angrily.

Yohji is still asleep.

A sudden rush of unadulterated fury burns through me and all I see is red, I want to smash his head and shake him awake with a bucket of ice water.

How could he sleep through _that_?

My answer arrives quickly; it's just simply and completely how Yohji is, and nothing else. He can sleep through a natural disaster and that's that, it's just that he's a pervert even when he is unconscious. Rage was just a masked blanket for my noticeable embarrassment. I was too engrossed in what he was doing to me to even realize that by then, a depraved male like him would have already taken part in whatever sexual activity we would have been engaged in.

Damn him!

He is still happily snoozing, dirty blond hair tousled and eyes closed behind an sweep of thick lashes, male lips relaxed from the placid line of false joy he usually wears, soft snores break the heavy silence in the brightening room, he is totally unaware of what happened, though it doesn't come as a surprise that even in sleep, he only thinks of fucking.

Yet..................

I don't love him, I honestly don't.

Yohji, with all his perfect imperfections, Yohji and the smooth practiced grin that draws blinds, I feel nothing, and instead of telling him, I graced him with falsehoods and decided to create a new world for him, a world like last night. It's better to lie, the barefaced motive being purely because it will hurt him less, and it will diminish my gnawing feelings of black guilt.

I'm suddenly drowning, proportion and naturalism are no longer important and nothing has prepared me for the great turbulence between the two of us. I'm bombarded by an assault of useless emotions, uncontrollable in the complexity and inexplicable combination of Yohji on the whole, the real Yohji. It all stabs me, brutally piercing through my defenses, the memory of our garments discarded, limbs entangled, plastered bodies, the lusty moans and the pain and bliss of rebirth in each others arms, even if for just a moment, I wanted it to last an eternity.

Long lashes waver gently and open slowly, I am hurled into a tropical rainforest, bleary eyes blink at me, and then as if remembering, a broad grin comes to his sleepy face.

"Mornin' Aya," his voice is husky and soft.

"Hn."

Yohji pulls me into his arms, fluttering brief kisses all over my face, like he can't get enough of me. I told him I was his, yet misery paws at me; I have already retreated into my shell. I don't want to see the light fade from his eyes; I can't bear to see him dying because of me.

The exotic hues of sunlight fill the room and for a moment I am free, released from all my chains of blood that drag me down, released from the lies.

Yohji is naked above me, demanding and hard, I want him too, but only his body. Hot tears form at the back of my eyes, he leans down to kiss me.

I'm sorry Yohji.

My arms wrap around him and I moan softly.

I can't feel. It's not enough.

I cradle his head to my chest, giving myself up to the inevitable ecstasy; he pushes me down into the mattress, dragging my body with his. Lifting my leg onto his shoulder, his head bends down and he looks at my exposed cock. I can't see his face, long curtains of blond hair hide it from me, yet I try to see it through his eyes, an organ, pale and hard.

Lowering himself, he traces a wet path with his mouth, a skilled tongue swirling downwards, laving stiff nipples and going lower to flick over my sensitive navel. He pauses as his head resting against my upper thigh; I gaze down at him, futilely attempting to decipher what goes through his restless mind. Warm breath tickles my dick making it thrum and sending bolts of lightning rippling through me. His tongue strokes and loops languorously, running gently along the rigid length of flesh, teeth graze my shaft tenderly and I let out a hushed whimper, then suddenly inquisitive, it shifts to the puckered ring of muscle, without warning, it probes deep; snaking slowly into me.

I can't help it, I moan, long and loud, writhing frantically on the bed and unable to keep still. A tanned hand caresses my belly teasing me into silence. Slim digits sink inside me leisurely; two fingers stretch me, inspecting and exploring until hitting a spot that blackens my field of vision, only to be replaced by his tongue again. He is watching my facial expressions; emerald orbs glow with barely suppressed need. He is drinking in all the loud gasps and the subdued cries extracted from my lips. I know he's enjoying this, yet I can't hold on for much longer and he knows that, wisely pulling away to my great distress. I whimper, too gone to care. He straightens and slides his body against mine, his mouth brushes my nipple, I whine quietly, my hands glide to his cock and hold it a vise like grip. Yohji hisses softly and blindly reaches for the discarded lube on the nightstand.

I grab it, a bit more clearheaded than he is at the moment, expertly flipping the lid and pouring the cool gel into my hands then slicking his cock with a few forceful strokes. I raise my head to meet his eyes, cloudy with lust and dazed with frenzied craving. I don't know what he sees in mine, probably a smaller replica of what he is feeling. I want to please him because I have no one else left to please.

His arms tighten around me and he grits his teeth, trying to attain some sort of control over the emotions that are slowly overriding all common sense, I'm ready to indulge this and gladly throw all reason to the winds. My hands bunch in his hair, clutching flaxen strands into a tight fist. Our hitched intakes of breath are audible in the sunlit room. I draw him to me, desperately needing some form of contact with him, I want to feel Yohji.

To your eyes I'm exposed

I've put my pride in repose

Warm lips descend on mine, his tongue tracing the line of my lower lip then slowly trailing the full length of the limp fold of flesh. I feel his teeth tenderly scraping as he growls deep in his throat. An eager tongue twirls inside, and then draws back before plunging into my mouth completely. I want this, and readily meet his tongue, caressing it lightly, then latching my mouth to his vigorously, trying to take all of Yohji into me just in one kiss. I grab his waist, my hand wandering the small denture in his back; my fingers stroke there, slippery skin dancing against them. I have never done this in bed; I've never acted like he matters. Lightly running my hands over the undulating planes of his back, I relish the smooth ripples of muscle my every touch causes. His breathing is harsh; eyes wide with confusion and breaths coming out in short agitated gasps as he pulls away. I shake my head and make jerky movements with my hips, letting him know that I'm ready and that I want him. Our bodies are now covered in thin sheets of perspiration.

_I'm bare,_

_stripped of emotion and tears._

Something between us snaps, like a neglected cord of electricity pushed into hot water. Yohji snarls and my legs snake around his lean waist, wrapping around him firmly. No more playing. He grabs chunks of my hair and roughly pulls back my head, emerald orbs glittering amongst silken threads of gold. He plunges into me, burying his cock to the hilt, his balls slap against my ass, making a wet smacking sound that has me groaning in pleasure. Yohji begins to move inside me, his face set in taut lines of concentration, golden light trickles into the bedroom, breaking through dark barriers, he drives into me hard and fast, impaling my body and surging back and forth, striking the same spot over and over again. I'm no longer preventing moans from escaping my mouth.

"Faster," I'm breathless; it even hurts to speak.

He grunts and complies, " Aya, I........"

I cover his lips with mine, distracting him from whatever he was going to say. I don't like talking during sex, emotions run amok and things that are said are regretted later.

His cries have become inarticulate, the pure essence of his pleasure, a dull punctuation to the craving that claws at him. There's something divinely carnal in the broken syllables coming from his lips, like the slow gush of a river admixed with a stormy ocean.

"I can't, I want..........." he rasps brokenly in my ear.

He lets loose, I match his powerful thrusts, my hips rising to meet his frantically, clawing at him desperately, embedding him deeper inside me by rolling my hips erotically. I feel his engorged length sliding in and out of me, my body arches as pleasure builds steadily, and I want this to last. He rides me hard, slamming powerfully as he moans in low tones; I'm less reserved and scream his name over and over again, thrashing under him as we blaze with the smoldering need for release. Our bodies constrict and quiver with each thrust, my eyes fixed on his, fervent with passion and my short nails wildly rake his back, urging him on.

_Hands move over my flesh,_

_my fists tighten and clench._

_I'm naked,_

_I can no longer fight,_

_I'm naked in your sight_

He drives into me harder and our bodies gleam with sweat scorching through overheated skin, coiling tighter and tighter with such force and intensity that I can only seize tangled blond hair and wildly toss back my head as we're swept up in flames. I arch of the bed, releasing my hold on Yohji to clasp the sheets forcefully as brutal spasms shatter me, I twisting my head from side to side and piercing moans slip from wet lips. I feel it, the hot pressure of molten lava rising to a frenzied peak until my entire body explodes, endless streams of seed drenching both our chests. I stare at him dazedly and see the firm muscles of his face go lax, the moist mouth opens in an inaudible shout and evergreen pupils roll behind his lids. Yohji shudders violently, unruly wisps of hair are tossed back and the toned body above me tenses, gritting his teeth; and his face in the midst of pleasure is the most beautiful thing I've seen in the presence of sunlight. He stiffens, trembling fiercely and with a few quick thrusts his seed rushes inside me, warm, white liquid flooding inside me. Hard endless spirals of heat swamp us leaving an earthquake of strong aftershocks.

We lay together arms around each other expressing a fierce need and hunger we can't seem to assuage. It is Yohji who floats us back to earth, were still entangled, his mouth dominating mine as his flesh sears through me, upper limbs clutching me securely. Even with reality staring us in the face we can't stop, I feel him hardening in me again, filling me as he takes me a second time, slower than the first but with no less passion. I don't mind, my head thumps repeatedly against the wooden headboard with the impact of his thrusts, I lift my hips to meet his, urging on the slow pace, not understanding the awe and utter look of adoration in his forest green eyes. The solid feel of Yohji entering me and pulling back out nearly drives me to tears, the stunning face staring down at me smiles and he graces my lips with a sweltering kiss. I can't lose this; I can't lose him. I gaze blankly at the stained ceiling, softly moaning at the strength of his measured strokes. Even when we find release I can't move, my mind suddenly gone blank yet filled with images of Yohji.

[Aya, you need to stop hiding in yourself and look outside, you're not the only one suffering!]

[What you need is to get laid! Want a cigarette?]

[Hn? What the hell is hn' supposed to mean?]

[For God's sake Aya, it's time to start living!]

Now I understand. I will always need him to say things like that, those slight moments I cherish by just being near him, he's what I claim from this world, at least I deserve some sort of false contentment. I want him as much as he wants me, and even after our fierce union he can't quite let go. He collapses on top of me, a curious tongue tasting my sweat-slicked throat. Whipcord arms encase me lovingly, lengthy golden locks of hair lay sprawled all over my chest as he carelessly licks a nipple, his damp hair brushes me like wet velvet.

Yohji mumbles lazily, "Hmm, oh fuck........ Aya........"

I wonder why he says my name in such a reverential tone; I can't feel farther from holy at this moment. Carefully rolling off me, he slumps next to my lethargic form, his satiated body denting into the soft mattress, his grasp on me loosens and his head burrows into the squashy confines of the bed, then he turns to look at me again. He rests gracelessly beside me; our heated bodies cooling and his fingers threading through my hair as he places idle kisses on my forehead.

His frantic breathing evens out into soft snores, gathering me into his arms; he sleeps for a second time, sated and limp in contented repose.

I stare at the broken walls inanely, absently counting the number of dirty blotches they are sprayed with, trying to ignore the steady rise and fall of his chest and the salty taste of his skin that still burns on my lips.

I disentangle my limbs from his and sit at the edge of the bed, staring out at the window and at the spectrum of bright colors scattering the room. I stare back at Yohji, his figure slack and naked against the sheets, body soaked in cool sweat, shimmering taut flesh amongst a sea of white, tantalizing, the mere sight of it, the narrow muscled torso and dusty nipples pink against the smooth tanned skin.

What can I say to him? Tell him I love him and that we'll remain like this forever? Not fucking likely. He calls me a bastard, it's okay and I accept it, plainly because I know I am. Even after this.............

I can't love him.

I know he loves me, yet I can't find a loophole through the wall that guards my feelings, they are sheathed in a dark prison and I can't release them.

I lounge on the corner of the bed, clammy, reeking of sex and of Yohji.

I don't love Yohji, but I can still pretend, I need him and I don't know why. I gave him hope and I refuse to take it back from him. I'll let him live in the false piety we have irrationally created. I'm just empty and he won't believe that. I already gave up and made a decision, I will lie to Yohji for as long as he wants, I will make him happy for as long as he needs.

Gods, it hurts.

My gaze rivets towards the cause of my suffering, raking the nude form meticulously, bitterness wells up inside me and my veins are singed with anguish. I wonder in agony what tomorrow will hold for two assassins searching for redemption. I bring the sheet to my mouth and bite it; short inhuman sounds escape me, sounding gurgled and tortured.

I sit there basking in the rays of the sun and the vivid hues of light. Hot lines of liquid blur my vision; he made me human for a moment. My face is wet, I can't stop my tears, they won't listen to me, for once in my life I'm helpless. My body becomes chilly and I dejectedly stare into the dazzling beams of daylight.

I grip the white sheets and my teeth viciously sink into my right hand; the bitter tang of blood touches my tongue, and I quench the urge to bite harder. Everything is too much; I can't bear it, not anymore. I stumble out of the bed, my own ghosts chasing me, in a daze I slam against the wall, doing so deliberately.

I need to get out, **now.**

_The light conceals my fear_

_And the glistening blood smeared_

My body begins to tremble; I look wildly around me, searching for an exit to this iron cage, then miserably sink to the floor with a muted thump, my body is cold, even with my eyes closed I can still see Yohji's naked profile lounging on the bed. I slip into a state of profound anxiety in which the simplest comforts seem beyond my reach. My lips move but nothing comes out. Yohji was supposed to be accidental and futile, an ignoramus of a memory who could deliver me nothing of consolation and companionship I thought I needed. I was so wrong.

A low roar of angry terror escapes me and I'm seized by panic, my body bends double in a convulsion of horror. I need to scream; yet I submit to low rasping laughter. Weakly, I smash my fist against the floor and pain circles my hand upon contact with the cold surface. I bring my palm into the light and stare at it, a piece of broken glass is embedded in the white flesh, blood gushes slowly and flows down my hand in an endless stream, splashing onto the floor. Spasms of pain lead to nausea, and through the haze of queasiness I gape at the blood. The deep crimson color of it in brightness, I watch it darken as it forms a sticky pool on the floor. Light seeps around me like a scalding spring brook, burning through my eyelids.

I don't want to make any noise.

I don't want to awaken Yohji.

I don't want to disturb our quiet universe.

Everything is fine.

The only thing left for me to do now is to find a way to stop the tears that are spilling down my cheeks, and to muffle the violent sobs that are threatening to choke me. I hear gentle snores coming from the bed. Shame swirls in me as Yohji sleeps contentedly while I cry.

_All my hope forsaken_

_I pray you'll not awaken,_

_I hope that you will sleep_

_As my throat releases a scream_

**ende**

I really hope all of you liked it! But I must confess...........Okay! I will say that I nearly spent five hours staring at the monitor as if expecting a lemon to pop out automatically, unfortunately I soon realized that if I wanted a lemon in my story I had to write it myself. And lo and behold.........a stupid one came through! I have to say that I'm a horrible person when it comes to writing long fics, the mention of numerous chapters sends me running, I guess I don't have the conviction to write a story for long. Though I must say that I love reading fics that would scare most because of the amount of pages and words. I hate to leave people hanging since I don't like it when others do it to me. Maybe if I get inspired someday I'll do a sequel to this, but I prefer to leave this as a kinda sad ending. I have decided to stick to writing one-shots, so expect some crappy fics from me! grins

**_Note_**: I had this revised, I think most of the mistakes are taken care of and yes there is a sequel to this which is already posted on this site. It's called Dirty! Go read and enjoy! I wrote it in third person though.

Yin.


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